Arranged Secrets
by AdahlenMahariel
Summary: Sherlock Holmes is beyond infuriated when he's forced into an arranged marriage with Margaret Hooper, a mousy, shy, and boringly plain woman with no interesting traits. But what happens when Sherlock makes the discovery that Margaret Hooper isn't all she seems? Sherlolly, John and Mary, rating will change in later chapters because of lemons ;)


**Hello fellow Sherlollyians! My name is Ellie, and this is my second Sherlolly story. My first one is called ****_Vicious Motivator_****, and is quite different from this little story here. So go check that out if you want to.**

**This idea has been stewing in my head for a while, so I finally just gave in and wrote it. Basically, this is an arranged Sherlolly marriage AU, with a little bit of a twist... So if you like badass Molly, Sherlock falling in love (realistically) and John and Mary, this is the story for you! **

**God I feel like I'm in an informercial.**

**No but seriously, i hope you guys like this, I'm really excited about it! And I hope to update quite often.**

**So without further ado, here we go!**

* * *

Margaret Amelia Hooper sat in her large closet, in the corner, surrounded by her conservative and proper wardrobe, staring at a large wooden chest, donned with a heavy iron lock.

She hadn't looked at this chest in a while, but now seemed a more appropriate time than ever.

Slowly, Margaret pulled on the silver chain around her neck, pulling the old iron key from between her breasts, slipping it off the necklace, and easing it gently into the lock. Margaret smiled slightly at the satisfying click the lock made as it caved in and opened up.

Gingerly, Margaret pulled the lid up, and allowed her sense of smell to be taken over. She smelled dust, old wood, exotic spices, floral perfume, and campfire smoke. It smelled of home, something that Margaret longed for with all of her heart.

Margaret peered inside, picking up the first thing she laid eyes on. A dried up white rose, that was pink along the edges, like the clouds at sunset. Brazil.

She set that down and picked up a cocktail napkin, with the cheesiest pick up line written on it in hastily scribbled ink. The hook up line was addressed to the 'pretty brunette in the purple dress.' Ireland.

An old book, written in a foreign language, carrying memories in its dog-eared pages and cracked spine. Germany.

A long scarf, made of bright blue silk, pretty water lilies stitched into it, carrying a slight scent of exotic food and spices. India.

A silver harmonica, dust clinging to its edges. Margaret lifted it up to her lips and blew slightly. It made a tinny high-pitched noise. Not entirely unpleasant, but it could do for a nice cleaning. Sweden.

Margaret picked through all of the items in her chest, wave after wave of nostalgia hitting her like a tsunami, as she reminisced and remembered every memory.

A fedora, a scrap of red fabric, a lace doily, an old paper sign, a small jar of dirt, a rough painting, a chunky necklace made of large wooden beads, and a pretty ruby hair pin. Everything in this trunk represented a memory, even the old trunk itself, which had been acquired in Egypt.

Finally, Margaret Hooper reached the last few items in her chest. They were all photographs, save one. In one photo, three best friends sat together at a fancy table, smiling at the camera and clinking their champagne glasses together.

In another, a pretty blonde woman smirked at the camera, putting her hand on her well-displayed hips, which were wrapped up in a tight red cocktail dress.

In the next, two men stared at each other happily, their arms linked. Both of them were dressed to the nines, each with a shiny new gold band on their ring fingers.

And the last picture. A small auburn haired woman with big brown eyes and a happy smile looked over her shoulder at the camera. She was dressed in worn out clothes. An old green blouse, dark brown pants, and she had a large backpack on her back, but she looked absolutely happy and comfortable. She was aglow with youth and joy, surrounded by what looked like wild wilderness in the background. Margaret stared at the picture, feeling tears prick in her eyes as she flipped it over, and read the messy scribbled writing on the back.

_Molly, Mexico 2004._

Margaret stared at this girl, the one who looked like her, the one who she used to be. That was Margaret Hooper 9 years ago, that was when Margaret Hooper, was actually known as Molly Hooper, that was when she had had a life.

Margaret put all the memories back gently into the trunk, except for 1 item. A dainty silver charm bracelet, that was nearly overflowing with the amount of little gems and charms it had on it. Margaret smiled at it fondly, and slipped it onto her wrist, looking down on it, and remembering.

* * *

**_ London, early 2004._**

Margaret Hooper, aged 24 years old walked around the small knick-knack shop, not quite sure what she was doing there.

She had gotten into another fight with her mother, but, as usual, the fight was mostly one sided, meaning that Margaret had sat and listened to her Mum rant about how silly it was to get a degree in Pathology if she was never going to work anyway.

Ever since Margaret had turned 18, she had known what lay before her. Someday, when the timing was right, she was going to be pushed into an arranged marriage, likely to be wed to some old sod that had plentiful money to spend and a swirly moustache. She had tried to fight it. Just because she came from a well to do family, she had to marry a well to do man? Why couldn't she marry for love? Why shouldn't she? The answer of course, always came down to two things. Money and tradition. Every time she broached the subject with her mother, Isabel Julie Hooper would lecture her daughter on the importance of keeping up family traditions.

"My grandmother had an arranged marriage. My mother had an arranged marriage, and I had an arranged Marriage, Margaret. Why should we break that tradition now? Besides, money doesn't grow on trees, no for people like us; we live on inheritance, and good marriages. I'll see to it that you have both!"

_ Screw_ tradition! _Screw_ money! Whatever happened to finding your own way in the world? Why did her mother have to be so stuck in her Victorian views?

Oh yes, Margaret had tried to fight it, desperately, but her mother wouldn't budge. An arranged marriage was on the agenda for Ms. Margaret Hooper.

And so, Margaret Hooper did what she did best, and offered a compromise.

She would marry whomever her mother thought best, and would make no objections, if her mother allowed her to get her medical degree in pathology.

Pathology had always been something Margaret had been interested in, ever since she had stolen her father's old anatomy book when she was 5. During her school career, she took every science and math class offered, she spent hours during the night, curled up under the covers with a flash light, reading medical books and papers. She had even gone to a medical seminar where they performed a live autopsy! She knew without a doubt, that had she been a normal woman, not aristocratic and posh, she would've been Dr. Margaret Hooper, forensic Pathologist.

However she was posh, and she was in some sense, a modern day aristocrat. And so, early in her teen years she had resigned herself to the fact that she would never be able to accomplish her dream.

But then, a window of opportunity made itself clear. Bribe her mother with her tolerance of an arranged marriage, so she could get her degree.

Her mother had been affronted. Her daughter? Go to uni and get a degree in slicing up cadavers? How unladylike! However, the tempting thought of her acceptance of the marriage was too tantalizing to resist. And so, begrudgingly, Margaret's mother had allowed her daughter to go to school, for nearly over a decade, and become a pathologist.

Isabel had always been confused as to why her daughter would even bother. She wouldn't be working when she married, so why even waste the energy?

Margaret had wondered that herself at first. It wasn't considered proper behavior for a married lady to work, like a middle class citizen. Oh the horror! No, she was just supposed to sit prettily at charity's, spout off some crap to reporters about the importance of high society families in modern day London, and be polite to every Tom, Dick and Harry she met, no matter how rude or ridiculous they were.

Margaret supposed, that it gave her comfort, that at least once in her life; she had accomplished something, that she had achieved something, without the influence of money or power. Just by herself.

She had left for school right after high school graduation, glad to be out of that posh prison cell of an all girl's school. She had insisted on not letting her parents choose her university, and she also decided she would not use her full title, Lady Margaret Amelia Hooper, ever to get ahead in school.

Her first six years had been great. She had made a few friends, no great ones yet, as she mostly kept to herself, but after all these years, Margaret was just happy to be actually doing something by herself for a change.

After 6 years of school, Margaret had 6 left to go. She was on her winter break when it happened. When she met the two people who would change her life forever. And she had met them in that very thrift shop, on Oak Street, in London, in 2004, after a row with her mother.

Margaret waltzed through the racks of clothing slightly, not really looking for anything to buy, but not ruling out the idea entirely. There were a lot of pretty things in here. Her Mum wouldn't think so, but then, Margaret had always had a more 'simple' taste than her mother, meaning she didn't appreciate large crystal chandeliers and cockily large limo's as much as a simple floral dress, or a old used book.

Margaret was about to just buy a small little knick knack, so she didn't end up loitering or bothering the shop keep, when her eyes drifted to a mannequin nearby.

The plain mannequin donned the nicest dress Margaret had ever laid eyes on. It was dark blue, with light pink roses crawling up the entire dress, creating a swirling and transfixing pattern. The dress was unbelievably tight through the middle and the bust, so much so that it would give her mother a heart attack, but it was beautiful, flaring out at the hips just perfectly, and reaching to about the knees. The silky material shined like a mermaids tail in the sunlight.

Margaret gingerly felt the soft fabric. This dress represented everything she was not. Daring, beautiful, feminine, flirty.

She had been about to turn and walk out of the store entirely, when a low and throaty voice spoke up behind her.

"You'd look pretty sick in that dress."

Margaret turned quickly, nearly falling over, searching for the source of the voice. It belonged to a short blonde girl, who was staring at Margaret with an amused glint in her hazel eyes. She was quite pretty, her hair curling around her shoulders like a princess. Margaret had the feeling that if you said that to her though, you'd get punched in the face. She looked feminine with her soft curves, but also tough, like she could take you down. She was wearing a big white sweater, ripped jeans, and big black combat boots, which laced up to her knees. Clearly not dressed to impress, but dressed comfortably. Margaret looked down at her stupid little cardigan and tan dress pants.

"Oh, um. Thank you?" Margaret said, trying her best not to look down sheepishly.

The girl laughed lightly, and stuck her hand out. "Mary Morstan, at your service." She beamed.

"Margaret Hooper, at yours." Margaret answered, growing a little braver.

Mary nodded and looked Margaret up and down.

"So, tell me, Margaret. What's a posh thing like you doing in a thrift store on Oak Street?" Margaret stared at Mary for a minute, stunned by her boldness, but something inside her had already started trusting this stranger, and she found that she wanted to tell this girl all about her problems.

"I had a fight with my mother about me getting my medical degree. She believes that a 'lady like me' shouldn't waste her time on such nonsense." Margaret admitted, rolling her eyes slightly. Mary's eyes twinkled in admiration slightly.

"What are you getting your degree in?" Mary asked, clearly interested.

"Pathology." Margaret said proudly, beaming. Mary's eyebrows shot up.

"Really! That's amazing!" She gushed, impressed.

"Thank you." Margaret smiled back, genuinely pleased. Whenever she told people she was studying pathology, they would recoil in disgust. It was a refreshing change to meet someone who respected the study.

"So, you got in a fight, and came to thrift store?"

"I was wandering around the back streets of London, and I guess I just ended up here." Margaret said simply. She stared at Mary for a moment and mustered up her courage to ask a question herself.

"What are you doing here then?" Margaret prodded.

"Oh I'm-"

"Mary! Where are you?" Called a singsong voice. Mary rolled her eyes at Margaret, as if they were sharing and inside joke and yelled over her shoulder.

"I'm over here you stupid arse!" She yelled. Margaret's eyes widened at Mary's blatant cursing. She wasn't allowed to curse at home, and certainly not in public, and here this woman was yelling it out to a store. Not that Margaret minded.

Suddenly, a man appeared. Margaret looked at both Mary and the boy together and instantly knew they were siblings. The resemblance was striking. They both had the same honey blonde hair, and hazel eyes. Mary's had a tad bit more emerald green in them though, where the man had more flecks of gold in them. His eyes reminded Margaret of buttery sunshine on tree boughs. He was quite attractive, and had a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. He stood next to his decidedly shorter sister, and put his arm around her.

"Who're ya harassing now Mary?" The guy teased, his eyes flicking over Mary.

"This is Margaret Hooper. She's studying pathology." Mary introduced, turning away from her brother's grasp and pulling a pretty white blouse of off the rack.

"Neat. I'm Peter Morstan, this cretin's brother." Peter smirked, pushing his thumb at Mary, who turned around and stuck her tongue out at him.

"Nice to meet you?" Margaret asked, wincing as her words came out like a question. She wasn't very good at people and socializing in general.

Peter smiled at her and turned to Mary. "Did you find what you're looking for?" He poked, tapping his foot impatiently.

"Not yet, oh annoying one." Mary huffed. Peter groaned and ran his hand over his face.

"You've got to be kidding me! Come one, I want to get out of here, and go and buy the stuff we'll actually be needing for our trip."

"That's what I'm doing." Mary said, pointing at the racks of clothing.

"No. That's not what you're doing. You do not need to buy a whole new wardrobe for this!" Peter argued. Margaret bit back a laugh at the site of these two siblings bickering.

"A girl always can do with more clothes. Right Margaret?" Mary asked, prodding Margaret's shin with the toe of her boot, while cocking an eyebrow at her.

"Oh yeah, always." Margaret answered, wondering if it was time for her to leave.

"I've got mostly everything I'll need. There's just one thing I want to do before we depart." Mary reassured her brother, beckoning the shop keep over.

"Yes darlin', what can I help ya with?" The shop keep asked, chewing on her gum loudly and playing with her dyed frizzy hair.

"Can we have that dress on the mannequin please? Margaret's going to try it on." Mary asked politely. Margaret's eyes widened.

"What?" She demanded, looking to Mary for explanation as the woman took the dress off the mannequin.

"You should try it on. I have a theory." Mary shrugged.

"What're you going on about now Mary wary?" Peter asked, poking his sister.

"Indulge me. Please Margaret?" Mary pouted, clasping her hands together by her face

Margaret had no idea why Mary, this strange woman she'd just met, would want to see her in a dress from a thrift store, but after some deliberation, Margaret figured, why not? She had nothing better to do, and she certainly wasn't ready to go home yet.

"Fine." Margaret relented. Mary winked at her and clapped.

"You wont regret it, I promise!"

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

Soon enough, Margaret was in a changing room, standing in her boring and simple bra and undies, staring at the dress in her arms. She quickly slipped it on, and with a bit of struggle, managed to get it zipped up all the way. Margaret gently smoothed out the silky fabric, and stared down at herself. She couldn't see much, and all of the mirrors were outside the changing rooms, and so, Margaret steeled herself, and slipped past the curtain.

Mary's head snapped up, and her eyes shined with delight. Peter's mouth dropped open. Even the shopkeeper gave her an approving glance.

"What?" Margaret asked, feeling self-conscious. Mary stood up, and circled her.

"You look… _HOT_!" Mary exclaimed, poking Margaret's stomach. Margaret flinched a little and smiled sheepishly.

"I don't think that's possible." She half joked. She had never seen herself as a particularly beautiful or 'sexy' person.

"Oh, honey, it is. Here take a look!" Peter smiled, grabbing Margaret's hand and pulling her over to a floor length mirror. Margaret stared back at the unfamiliar girl.

The girl in the mirror was stunning. She was petite, and well shaped. Her breasts, although not huge, were pushed up nicely in her tight dress. The dark blue dress contrasted beautifully with her pale skin, and the pink roses brought out the hues of coral in her skin, and also brought out her auburn hair and dark doe like eyes.

This girl was not her. This girl was… coy, pretty, sexy, feminine, and definitely not at all like her. Margaret Hooper was proper, prim, and conservative. She never showed any unnecessary skin. She was restrained.

But the girl in the mirror had nothing to lose. She looked like she was the type of girl to be spontaneous, to throw caution to the wind… to live.

She did not look like the type of girl who would be held back.

"I… I look so different." Margaret whispered, shifting slightly so the silky fabric swirled around her knees like water.

"You look beautiful. If I wasn't into men, I would be all over you." Peter smiled at her. Margaret glanced over at him, processing his comment.

"Yes, I am gay." Peter said dramatically, bringing a hand up to his forehead and closing his eyes, pretending like he was about to faint. Mary swatted him.

"Ignore him. He's an idiot. You do look beautiful though, not at all like the posh girl in the tan dress pants I met a minute ago." Mary smiled, putting an arm over Margaret's shoulders and studying her in the mirror.

"In fact, in this dress the name Margaret doesn't really suit you." Mary mused. Margaret cocked an eyebrow and at Mary through the mirror.

"Then what name does?" Margaret asked.

Mary thought for a minute staring at Margaret hard, until her face lit up as she made her decision.

"In that dress… you look like a Molly."

Peter perked up. "That suits you perfectly!"

_ Molly._

Margaret stared into the mirror. Yes she could definitely see it. Margaret was who she was around her mother; Margaret was the aristocrat that was being forced into an arranged marriage. Margaret was the one who was trapped.

But Molly, Molly was free. Molly was beautiful. Molly was going to be whoever she wanted to be. In that moment, in that dress, Margaret Hooper wasn't Margaret Hooper, she was Molly Hooper.

And she didn't want to let Molly Hooper go.

"It does suit me perfectly." Margaret whispered, smiling to herself. Mary caught her eyes in the mirror and smiled softly back at her. As they stared at each other, her expression grew into something different. Abruptly, she stepped away from 'Molly' and grabbed Peter's arm.

"We'll be right back Molls. I need to talk with him." She explained, before pulling Peter up to the front of the store.

Margaret nodded, hiding the little thrill she got from being called 'Molls' and looked back into the mirror. She was mesmerized.

And so Margaret waited patiently, while Mary and Peter discussed, wondering idly what they were talking about. Mary and Peter were two very strange siblings, but there was something in them that Margaret liked. They were… magnetic, they had this sort of energy around them, a teasing, happy, carefree energy that made Margaret want to get up and dance. Her mother would hate them no doubt, but that just made Margaret like them all the more.

She was ripped from her thoughts as Mary and Peter returned, big smiles plastered on their faces.

"We have a proposition for you..." Peter began.

"We were wondering…" Mary said after.

"Yes…?" Margaret asked, tilting her head to the side, slightly confused.

"Peter and I are going on and adventure, and we'd like it if you joined us." Mary finalized, sticking her chin up proudly.

"An adventure?" Margaret asked, turning away from the mirror and towards the siblings. They both nodded in unison.

"Yes an adventure. You know, like a journey, with no set destination?" Peter asked, linking arms with his sister.

"We're just going to travel to wherever we want to! We could end up anywhere! Asia, Africa, Paris, Turkey! I don't know! that's the point!" Mary exclaimed, growing excited.

"You're just going to be traveling across the world, wherever you want to… just because?" Margaret asked, astounded. Mary nodded.

"We had a rich grandfather, who we loved a lot, and vice versa. He was a sailor, an adventurer, and when he died, he left us almost all of his money, and said in his will that it was to be used for an adventure only. That was 1 year ago, and since then, Peter and I have been working and saving up some extra money, and planning." Mary explained.

"That's…" Margaret didn't know exactly how to explain that. It sounded terrifying, it sounded interesting, and it sounded wonderful.

"We're leaving in one week." Peter smiled.

"And we want you to come with us." Mary said after.

"But why? I mean… we've only just met and… I have no idea who you are." Margaret asked, stuttering. Mary smiled and broke away from her brother, to stand in front of Margaret.

"I know. It is a bit strange. But for some reason, Margaret Hooper, I like you. So does Peter. There's just something about you… you seem sweet, and friendly. And you also seem like you're the type of person who needs an adventure." Mary explained, smiling softly at Margaret. Margaret stared back, completely overwhelmed and moved.

"I'm sorry if I'm being creepy and rude… but hey, you only live once right? And sometimes I find that the best things in life are spontaneous, and just a tad bit crazy." Mary offered. Margaret still stared for a moment, until she found her voice.

"Could I… think about it?" She asked. Mary nodded, and pulled a scrap of paper out of her big and cluttered purse, and a pen. She quickly scribbled a number down, and handed it to Margaret.

"Here's my cell. Call me before Friday with your answer." Mary smiled, handing Margaret the scrap of paper.

"Okay." Margaret nodded, still quite struck with surprise.

"Well, goodbye. I really hope you decide to come… Molly." Mary smiled, turning and walking away. Peter paused before he followed her.

"And even if you don't come, you should still buy that dress. I like Molly much better than Margaret." Peter offered, smirking at her before grabbing the sibling's bags and following his sister out of the store.

Margaret watched them leave, and turned to look at herself in the mirror again, to look at Molly in the mirror again.

Margaret thought and thought, just staring at the other girl in the one-way glass. Could she really do it? Run away and travel across the world with two eccentric siblings she'd only just met… just because?  
Margaret Hooper never did anything just because. Margaret Hooper always had a reason. She always followed her mother's orders. She was proper; she was completely predictable and dependable. That was who Margaret Hooper was, and that was who Margaret Hooper was always going to be.

But…

But what if she didn't want to be Margaret Hooper anymore?

What if she wanted to be Molly Hooper?

What if she wanted to be Molly Hooper, the pretty brunette in the flirty and showy dress, what if she wanted to be Molly Hooper, the brave and spontaneous girl who traveled across the world with a crazy brother and sister… just because?

"Oi, are you going to buy anything?" The cashier asked from her stool. Margaret turned and looked at her, then looked back at her reflection. At Molly.

"Yes… I think I am."

* * *

_** 2013, present day.**_

Margaret Hooper smiled to herself, and sat up from her closet floor. That had been 9 years ago. 9 years ago Margaret Hooper had made a decision that changed her life forever. 9 years ago Margaret Hooper became Molly Hooper.

But, again that was 9 years ago. And this was today. The day she had feared for a majority of her life.

Today… she was to meet her future husband.

She had traveled with Mary and Peter for 2 years, before coming back and finishing school at the age of 32. As soon as Margaret stepped off campus, her mother began searching for a suitable man for her, and now, 1 year later, just a little bit before Margaret's 33rd birthday, that man had been found.

Today she was to meet him.

_ Sherlock Holmes._

* * *

**Soooo. What did you think? Love it? Hate it? Want to share your views about fried chicken with me? Go ahead, and leave a review!**

**Also, I feel like this should be mentioned. In my other story, ****_Vicious Motivator_****, Peter is in it too. He's sort of become canon to me honestly, and I wanted him in this story, so there you go. Just thought I'd let you know in case I have any dedicated readers who noticed or something. **

**Hope to update soon! **

**Review, favourite, follow!**

_**~Ellie.**_


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